I hadn’t realized I had a file. I guessed that all students did, just like they do at all academic institutions across the world -- it made sense. I wondered what was in the file.
“I have a younger sister, too,” he went on. “I grew up in a suburb of Chicago as well. I draw, too, and like you, I’m a Reader.”
I knew this already… the last bit. I wondered if he was a loner, too.
“There aren’t too many of us around here,” he carried on. “Telepathy is one of the most powerful gifts one can have. It’s a gift, but make no mistake, it can also be a burden.”
Tell me about it.
I thought about my life and how both beautiful and difficult it had been. I remembered holding a small Kylie in my arms, and feeling her hunger, discomfort, and her aches. It actually had proved quite useful to my mom. “She’s hungry,” I’d say. “She wants her soother.” “The sweater Nana got her is too scratchy.”
I thought about how I knew Nana was sick, even before she did.
I thought about the deer around the bend, on a family road trip, and how we’d avoided it because I had seen him coming, before he could even be seen.
I thought about how I knew my father was gone, even before my mother did.
Yes, it was definitely both a blessing and a curse.
“Readers have intensified senses,” Cedric went on. “We’re much more sensitive to the energies that surround us, both good and bad. We cry easily and we laugh easily as well.”
It was so true. I remembered all those years I’d spent in the psychiatric ward, wrongly diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder. I’d been given drugs, behavioral and cognitive therapy, “She’s not just a very sensitive girl,” my mom insisted, knowing there was much more to it.
“We hear people, and we want to help them. We want to help them all, and when we realize we can’t help them all, we’re destroyed, and we pull away. We close in on ourselves.”
I nodded. “Yes, I’ve done that,” I confessed. “Guilty. I’m quite the introvert.”
“Most of us are,” he told me. “It’s the nature of Readers to pull away from others. Not only because we can’t help them all, but also because we’re attuned to not only the good, but the bad as well.”
“Yes,” I thought about the mean kids at school. They didn’t taunt me out loud, but they didn’t have to -- I could see it all in the way they looked at me, and in the way they ignored me. That might have not been so hurtful if I hadn’t also been able to read their cruel thoughts.Weirdo. Freak. Oddball.
“People push Readers away,” he went on. “They feel naked around us. They don’t consciously know that we’re reading them, but deep inside, they have a funny feeling. That’s why they think we’re strange, and they try to stay away from us.”
It made perfect sense. Everything he was saying seemed so obvious. Why had I not considered it before? It was most likely the reason why I had no friends back home, why Brooke had pulled away from me.
“And Readers tend to be exhausted all the time--”
“Yes,” I blurted out. I’d always wondered why I was so tired all the time.
“It’s exhausting to process all the overwhelming energies surrounding us. Categorize them, dismiss some, and grasp onto others. A constant loop plays in our minds, analyzing the feelings and actions of others. Composing words of wisdom for them, perhaps in written form. Wanting to help, but never having the nerve to.”
Mr. Black was spot on. It was like this man could read my mind.
Oh wait… he probably could.
“You must always remember that other’s emotions are not your own. You cannot take on the burden of their problems. You must always look out for yourself first. It’s really important for your well-being, Annabelle.”
Everything he was saying made so much sense, but that was easier said than done.
“How do you stop it?” I asked, eagerly waiting for his wise reply.
“You can’t stop it,” he said. “You can only manage it. Perhaps you might want to find activities that occupy your brain, calm your mind… something solitary perhaps.”
I straightened. “Yes… I do origami,” I told him. “I love it… it numbs my brain. I also draw and play the guitar.”
“Excellent,” he smiled. “I love painting… it’s been a wonderful outlet for me.”
It was official -- Mr. Black was very cool. When I’d first met Cedric, I liked him instantly. I’m lucky because I’m an excellent judge of character. I don’t get fooledtoooften, or too easily.
